


On Happiness and Pleasure

by Liliriu



Category: Patalliro!
Genre: Angst, Body Image, Dating, M/M, a bit humor i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:26:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24424981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liliriu/pseuds/Liliriu
Summary: Could it be that, after all, the people were right…? Could it be that he was… he blushed at the thought… The most beautiful boy in the world?Warning: this is mostly about body image and obsessing over physical appearance.
Relationships: Patalliro du Malyner VIII/Jack Barbarosa Bancoran (sort of)
Kudos: 1





	On Happiness and Pleasure

It was evening in London. More precisely, in a fancy hotel room, with art nouveau style decoration. A skinny boy with blond fluffy hair, big eyes and a tiny red mouth, was asleep on the big bed, his body curled up between soft pillows, his features angelical in his sleep. But not for long, since it was already the time for King Patalliro VIII to arise from bed. He stretched. He smiled. Tonight was the night. Tonight was the big date.

He had met Major Bancoran only a week ago, at one of the many parties that were held in order to celebrate his sixteenth birthday. The truth was that he was a rather shy, introverted person, who preferred to keep to himself; but it seemed that everyone wanted a piece of him lately, and he was a skilled enough diplomat to understand the importance of complying in some cases. Yet he could not help but wonder _why exactly_ was he so popular. There _was_ his famous colossal wealth, of course, he could not deny that… And about the matter of his exorbitant I.Q… Well… he thought about his collection of PhD’s… He supposed that he could not deny that as well.

But he knew that none of these things was enough to make a man _liked_ ; he was aware of enough counterexamples. It _could be_ that he was _apparently_ considered to be a great beauty, although the monarch himself did not think that he was _that_ extraordinary. Yet, the rumors seemed to disagree; since his early childhood, he had often been praised for his good looks, but recently, the admiration had crossed every border: he received daily requests to take part in modelling campaigns, and had been compelled to assign a whole squad of tamanegis only to the task of dealing with fan mail. Well… He curved his red lips into another tiny smile; he could only hope that all this would be enough for Mr. Bancoran.

And really, he had to start getting ready for his date; he had the feeling that this would be a determining night, and did not want to risk being late. He stepped towards the bathroom, and prepared himself a bath full of big, colorful bubbles, fitting his mood. Once Patalliro was done bathing, he stared at the body mirror, and administered generous amounts of moisturizer and perfume. Perhaps… perhaps the rumors did not lie? Because the figure he saw was certainly a lovely one: slender, without visible musculature but only pure, soft lines (although he was skilled at many athletic activities); almost transparent, completely hairless smooth skin (he had had it fully waxed a couple of days ago); and of course, his trademark angelical face… Patalliro applied some eyeliner, emphasizing even more his huge green eyes; and painted his long eyelashes with black mascara, making them look even longer. He thought that the result was not bad at all… But was it _good enough_ …? He could never be sure, for he _sensed_ that if it was not perfect, it was not good enough.

The young king performed an even more exhaustive examination. He drew closer to the mirror and stared at his eyebrows: skillfully shaped, without a hair out of place. Then the nose: little and cute as always, without a single blackhead on it. No facial hair, either; it had been as thoroughly waxed as the body hair. He felt his waist with one hand: perfectly slim. Then weighted himself, just to be on the safe side, but the number was perfect as well. His hands… elegant, exquisitely manicured… Could it be that, after all, the people were right…? Could it be that he was… he blushed at the thought… _The most beautiful boy in the world?_

“Happiness” is not a synonym for “pleasure,” since pleasure is compatible with suffering, and some brands of pleasure might be even reinforced by pain. But happiness… Happiness admits none of this. Happiness is safety, is cleanness, is the absence of vice, is the certainty that you are free, and everything is _all right_.

Patalliro felt happiness.

***

Already inside the restaurant, his Bankoran was looking especially splendid. Patalliro could not help but blush; his slightly rounded cheeks resembling the roses on the table… He then noticed that he was already internally referring to the older man as “ _his_ Bancoran,” and blushed even more. His date _did_ look truly amazing, though: the long, slick raven hair was combed back, fully exposing the strong yet delicate face, covered by fair, fair skin; blue shadow enhancing his even bluer, piercing eyes; all his movements graceful but powerful, looking perfectly comfortable inside the heavy black suit… Patalliro had never met another man like this before, as elegant as he was virile. His own light colored silken garments and diamond jewels felt a bit silly now; and again, he could only hope that he would be enough to impress his prospective lover.

His looks were not the only thing that the monarch was insecure about. He was well aware that boys his age were usually more… lively, more… _fun_. But sadly, being in charge of a whole country since such a young age as he had been, had not left him much time for typical teenage lightheartedness. He could not think about many conversation topics except for international politics, top entomology research, and the medieval styled poetry that he wrote as a hobby. He knew that most people were not really interested in this kind of things, even if they did pretend to listen in an attempt to adulate him. Patalliro certainly hoped that he was not boring his date… But Bancoran was not merely pretending to listen; he gazed at his companion fully attentive as he talked, intervening once in a while to ask questions. The young king could not believe how lucky he was.

***

The meal had been extremely pleasant after all, and now they were cuddled, slightly drunk, on the backseat of a taxi. Of course, Patalliro had arrived at the restaurant escorted by his bodyguard, but Bancoran, who possessed bodyguard skills himself (as well as many other useful skills), had assured the king that he was more than enough to keep him safe, and convinced him to sneak out. It was Patalliro’s first time traveling by taxi, and he was a bit embarrassed to admit that he found it exciting… The inside of the car was dimly lit, and he could feel the warmness of Bancoran’s body close, so close to his own, hands starting to travel…

“Oh, Bancoran, you can’t touch me there…” he mumbled, as he felt the eager hand between his legs. But he _did_ want Bancoran to touch him, he wanted it so much…

Patalliro closed his eyes tightly, since the sunlight which managed to get through the window blinds was _so_ annoying. He was covered by sweat and his muscles ached from sleeping in a weird position. He wanted to go back to where Bancoran’s touch was… He arose from bed and walked towards the body mirror. Maybe… _maybe…_

He still looked like himself. Old, plain himself. His little heart shattered.

He grinned.

He knew that he was beautiful, _the most beautiful boy in the world_. And if the people were too stubborn to admit it… Well _fuck them_.

They deserved to _suffe_ r, and Patalliro intended to make sure that this would indeed be the case.

_He-he._

Patalliro felt pleasure.


End file.
